


Bullets, Bad Guys and Bras

by Erza_Inu_Hyuga



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22025830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erza_Inu_Hyuga/pseuds/Erza_Inu_Hyuga
Summary: Peter Parker had nothing left.After Aunt May, there was no one to pay the bills or keep the roof over his head.Going to Mr.Stark wasn't an option and he didn't have the time to keep a stable job, or even find one while in his economical position.After overhearing some shield agents, the spider started taking up jobs -Regardless of whether he was proud to do them or not, they paid.That was, until he met a certain character in Black and Red shooting up his clients."Aren't you a bit too childish to be a mercenary?""HUH! Flirting on the job?!""What? I-I'm not flirting!""I should report you to HR! Do we even have that...?"Apparently his name was Deadpool.
Kudos: 5





	Bullets, Bad Guys and Bras

**Author's Note:**

> Get ready for a slow start while I world build and set the stage. After that, some mild angst and then fluff will ensue worse than the white shit that gets stuck in your hair from your pillows! You know what I mean?? I hope someone does cause its annoying as all hell.

Droplets fell on marble, sliding off in pairs as the cascaded down to the mud with a silent sound. Thousands of them fell a second, had been doing so since a few days back. Since the day when just too much rain cause the car to skid too far, right over the pavement where she stepped gleefully towards the apartment.

He received the call only an hour later and arrived within miniutes.

Blood swamped the faded tarmac as easily as the tramped groceries did. Her favourite yellow coat was ripped, skidded across the ground after the impact. You could see the extent of the damage from the cuts on her limbs, from the wounds on her torso, from the chunk on her frontal lobe that had been concaved from the impact.

She'd lost a significant amount of blood, they'd told him. But the impact was so strong, and at her age too - They reported that she had died the second the collision occurred.

They said they were sorry.

Everyone did. After Aunt May's charity work and years of managing at the News Station, there was plenty of people who came with him to gathered around a casket she would have hated, to place down flowers she would have called a waste, to say goodbye despite the fact that she would never want them to.

What else could he do?

The last of her remaining pay went to the costs of the funeral and after that, 1 more months rent on the apartment. It was only 2 weeks after that Spiderman resurfaced again. 

Wobbaly on his feet, uncoordinated and unbalanced. He heard screams from people, weaker people, who needed his help at this later time of night. But before any of that, he heard his stomach screaming out for a meal- Something he knew he couldn't afford and that his body would throw up anyway. Everytime he tried to keep something down, even a simple drink from Stark Tower he'd relive that moment.

Peter could see so much red, the white of a broken skull and the dull hue of empty eyes.

And the food would come right back up again.

His metabolism was always working, teenage boy aside- he wasn't fully human and that needed calories he just wasn't getting.

It was the 2 week after his last proper meal that his land lord told him to leave. No rent meant no roof. 

It was October.

Half his possessions were stuffed in a locker Mr.Stark told Spiderman he could use, while the rest he kept hiding in backpacks around the city. It was easier that way. It's not like anywhere in particular would have kept them safe.

It was one particular night that the screaming was worse- Both his body and the woman in the alley way pesturing him to no end.

"HELP!" She bellowed at 2 in the morning, "PLEASE! HELP ME-"

2 men, 1 armed with a 9mm through which he had already shot 2 bullets. 

Easy. Well, it usually was. But when dropping from a web, Peter leaned against the wall for balance. Moving too fast left grey streaks in his vision. 

"Something's wrong with your SuperMan!" One of the guys laughed, stepping closer, a single push from his hand knocking the boy flat on his back.

Up seemed so far away when laying down felt so good. His body was heavier than ever, too heavy to pull himself and much to heavy to keep his eyes open.

The last thing he heard was the faint gasp and scuttling of the woman's feet running away from the scene, before a steel toe cap rammed into his ribs. Again, and again and again.

But she was safe.

That was all he needed right? To save the weak person in distress? To come to call whenever someone needed it? To help those too helpless to help themselves?

Those people needed Heros like him.

But what was he meant to do when he needed a Hero?


End file.
